


gave you a minute when you needed an hour

by rynzler



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Drifter is Wu Ming, F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Slight fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynzler/pseuds/rynzler
Summary: Wu Ming is a bonfire in the darkness, and she crawls toward his warmth.-Synesthesia, 38
Relationships: The Drifter (Destiny)/The Emissary (Destiny)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a scene I can't get out of my head. It is un-beta'd and basically word vomit, but here it is. Also, we're just gonna assume that Lightbearers can't procreate, so there's no mention of contraception.  
> Title is from Bridges, by Broods.

The first time we came together was a hurried passion. There was little thought or emotion in it. We were in the midst of a heated conversation. I can’t even remember exactly what we had been talking about. Conversation was so easy between us it felt as if were talking about nothing, and everything all at once.  


I can’t remember who moved first. In a second, our mouths had met and were kissing with ferocity. It was all teeth and desperate grasping at each other. He pulled me against him, and I placed my hands on either side of his face, trying to get as close to him as possible.  


He pulled away abruptly and for a moment, I feared I had done something wrong. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but fiery desire. He lifted me up and set me on the table. Glasses fell to the floor and shattered, but neither of us seemed to notice. He was above me, pressing me into the table’s surface and we resumed where we had left off. He moved his mouth from mine and began to nip and kiss at my neck. I gasped and pushed his jacket off of him, still trying to get closer.  


We didn’t even manage to get all of our clothing off. We were both frantic and wanting. He took me there, on the table. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him into me. This wasn’t sweet lovemaking. This was rough movements, deep groans, and filthy words. But it was what we both needed at that moment.  


He bit into the skin where my neck met my shoulder and I cried in surprise and pleasure. The sound made him move faster and I gripped the fabric of the shirt I hadn’t managed to take off of him.  


“Please, please,” I murmured. I’m not sure what I was asking for. Pleasure? Comfort? Release?  


In response, he moved a hand to between us and used his thumb to bring tears to my eyes and a deep moan from my mouth. He bit into my skin again as we both fell to ecstasy.  


After, we didn’t speak much. We both smoothed back hair, straightened clothes, and picked up broken shards of glass. But, when I hazarded a glance at him, I could see a smile on his lips.  


We didn’t speak of the encounter after that. However, things didn’t go back to how they were. We still shared our fears and confessions and we still could have conversations for hours. But there was something more now. More passing touches, more lingering glances, and the occasional innuendo.  


The second time we came together must have been a few weeks after our first time. This time, instead of hurried, heated passion, it was sweeter. We were more flirtatious and playful.  


I had stayed behind after the bar had closed and was teasing him about something. He had an amused look on his face when he suddenly stepped forward, snaked on arm around the small of my back, tugged me towards him, and kissed me. I was surprised for only a moment, before I returned the kiss with enthusiasm. I felt him smile against my lips.  


This time we made it to his bed in the small room at the back of the bar. This time, there was kissing, touching, and undressing each other. As I moved atop him, he sighed my name. It was the sweetest sound I could remember hearing.  


We agreed to keep feelings out of this “arrangement.” I can’t remember exactly how long it went on. When you’re immortal, time tends to move differently. I think it was at least two years. I kept finding excuses to return. I knew we were tempting fate as sex started to become more frequent. We fit together so well. I started to stay the night with him when I visited, sharing his small bed. I learned he was a light sleeper who often awoke in the middle of the night with a start, haunted by visions and dreams.  


The first night I spent with him, he awoke with a gasp. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t seeing.  


“Hey,” I said, resting my fingers on his cheek. “Hey, I’m here.”  


He relaxed when his eyes met mine. He pulled me closer and we fell asleep with my face resting against his neck, his chin atop my head.  


One night, he awoke suddenly and sat up, crying out wordlessly. I turned over onto my back, reaching a hand out, but not touching him, in case I startled him.  


“Ming?” I murmured. “What’s wrong?”  


He looked down at me, for an instant, he looked afraid, an expression I had never seen on him. But as he looked at me, he relaxed and laid back down. I turned on my side, resting my hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the quickened pace slow back down again.  


“What are you so afraid of?” I whispered.  


He was silent for a moment. “Everything,” he breathed, almost too quietly to hear.  


One day, after being apart for months, we stayed in bed together until the afternoon. I knew then, with the slow, deliberate lovemaking, the frequent kisses, and soft-spoken words, we had broken our promise. There was something between us.  


We were wrapped up together in each other’s arms, he was telling me a story about his ventures during the Dark Ages, his lips moving against my ear, when someone pounded at the front door of the bar.  


“Are you going to open or not?” an irritated patron demanded. We both laughed.  


The bar didn’t open that day.  


The last time we came together was the day before I learned the truth. Before I learned about his lies. I had stayed the night again. I fell asleep with my back against his chest, his arms around me. I awoke in the middle of the night to the feeling of a gentle kiss placed on my shoulder. I pretended to still be asleep. He murmured something in a language I didn’t know. I knew then that this had gone too far. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But he was a light in the darkness, and I needed him. Or so I thought.  


The next day, I learned the truth. He had been lying. I couldn’t remember a time where I felt so betrayed.  


"There is nothing out there for you, Orin!" He didn’t need to pretend to care. I knew the truth now.  


"Orin, please!" I don’t think I had ever heard him say please until that moment.  


"I’m going, Wu Ming. This 'friendship', or whatever you want to call it, it’s over. Try not to get shot."  


Did feelings become involved? Of course. Otherwise it wouldn’t have hurt so much.  


I know now his lies were more complicated than I initially thought. I don’t think he was trying to hurt me. He just didn’t know how to disentangle himself from a web of lies hundreds of years in the making.  


He has a destiny. He has a fate. He is choosing to ignore them. But someday, he will make a choice. I want to be there with him when he does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Drifter receives a visit from the Darkness in a familiar form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon if you squint.

This isn't the Emissary standing before him, this is Orin. His Orin. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks, defensively. 

She smiles. "I know you miss me." She steps closer to him. He holds his ground. She places her hands on his shoulders, her thumb brushes the side of his neck. 

"I know you miss us," she says, quietly, and leans forward to press a kiss to his neck. He suppresses a shudder. 

"No," he says, placing his hands on her arms to push her away, not unkindly. "No, this isn't real." 

"But it could be," Orin says, meeting his gaze steadfastly. 

He tries to laugh but it comes out sounding choked. "How?" 

She steps towards him again. "Tell me what you want." 

He swallows, looking away for a moment. She feels her fingers resting on his arm. He meets her eyes again. 

"I want you," he says, hoarsely, annoyed at how desperate he sounds. 

Orin smiles. "Elaborate." 

He finds his voice again. This time, he speaks strongly. 

"I want to kiss you," he says, stepping forward so they are only a foot apart. "I want to make love to you. I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep next to you. I want you to be mine." 

Orin's arms are at his shoulders again and his hands are firmly against her hips. She was right, he had missed this. 

Their lips meet in the lightest of kisses before he comes to his senses. He steps back abruptly. She doesn't look hurt. The real Orin would have. Instead, she's watching him curiously. 

"You're not Orin," he says. "She's different, now." 

Not-Orin's expression doesn't change. "What if we said we could give her back to you, as you knew her? As you loved her? We could take her back from the Nine and bring her back to you." 

He scoffs. "And how would you do that?" 

"We have a favor to ask of you." 

"No, I don't do favors. Not for you, not for the Traveler." 

"You have no love for the Light," Not-Orin reminds him. 

"Doesn't mean I like you any better. I'm on no one's side 'cept my own." 

"You pretend to be selfish and self-serving," Not-Orin says. "But you aren't. You have something you care about. Do us this favor and she will be yours again." 

"I don't believe you can. I want no part in this conflict, this damn light versus dark thing is exactly what I want to stay out of." 

The pretender says nothing to this. 

"Now, leave," he says, making a shooing motion. "I'm done with you." 

The pretender smiles in a way he knew Orin never would have. It's malicious, sly. 

"You are done, when we say you are." 

He feels a chill run down his spine. The illusion disappears, leaving him alone on the Derelict once more. His Ghost appears and looks up at him, silent, as always. He pushes him away with two fingers. 

"I know, I know. They can't be trusted," he says. "I'm not stupid. They couldn't bring her back. Not when the Nine have her." 

However, he is not entirely sure he believes himself. A part of him dares to hope. And that hope is stirring up ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> This may not make a lot of sense. It's supposed to be around the time Drifter ran a bar and was operating under "Wu Ming." Inspirations were taken from lore entries.


End file.
